


Invisible Spaces

by Itsuey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26690872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsuey/pseuds/Itsuey
Summary: Harry was a good boy, his teacher told him so. His Uncle told him he was bad, but he couldn't tell him about his new friend because it was their secret. But Harry was a good boy and that was all that mattered.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Other(s), Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 11
Kudos: 124





	1. The First of Many

**Author's Note:**

> This is your rape warning! 
> 
> I wrote this in my head while I was tidying up at work tonight so it's a bit fragmented, might be changed in some places in the future, and I'm not sure where it's going. I don't think there'll be anything of a "traditional" rape, but Harry is most definitely underage at the start of this so that's statutory rape.
> 
> Edit: Yes, there will be rape, only one scene I think, but more may appear, it depends where my mind goes with this.

The first time Molly Weasley had any inkling that her only daughter's fate may be even slightly entwined with that of the Boy Who Lived, was on a Thursday evening in late October 1986. The sun had set and a storm was on the horizon, already she could see the trees waving faintly in the breeze from her youngest son's bedroom window in the attic. 

Ron had gone to bed with little complaint despite the early hour; she had taken her two youngest out most of the day scouring the landscape for wild fruits and berries as they started to ripen on the trees and hedgerows and both of them had been exhausted by the time they made it home. Ginny had taken a little more convincing that really she should go to bed and she didn't have to stay up any longer, but a mug of hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows floating in the foamy top was good incentive to get in to bed.

Molly closed the door softly and made her way down the stairs to her youngest, reminding Fred and George who were about to go bounding up to their own room to keep it down and not wake their siblings. She pushed the door open to Ginny's room to retrieve the empty mug and frowned at the sight that greeted her. 

Ginny always slept on her side, so it was a surprise to see her flat on her back, even more concerning was the staccato nature of he breathing, shallow and fast and wheezy with mutterings. She stepped further into the room and put her hand over her daughter's face. There was no temperature, she was obviously just having a nightmare.

Ginny's eyes snapped open and she stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

“Bad men are coming. Save Harry Potter.”

She blinked slowly and Molly tried to not look as disturbed as she felt.

“Night mum,” she said in a much more normal voice, looking as thought she was just on the edge of drifting off again.

“Goodnight Ginny,” she kissed her daughter on the forehead and went to firecall Dumbledore.

**

The first time Dumbledore knew something was seriously wrong was September 2nd 1996. It wasn't even 2 days in to term and already he found himself giving an audience to one of his students and when this particular one visited, he knew something bad was about to happen.

He poured himself a cup of tea and offered the pot to his young guest which she refused politely while she clenched and unclenched her hands in her lap. 

“What can I do for you Miss Granger? It isn't often you visit me.” He tried to gauge what sort of information she was about to impart to him but she was unreadable. He could try legillimency but she would come out with it eventually on her own.

“Sir, it's about Harry.”

It was always about Harry. If the boy was having visions again he was going to have to ask Severus to start giving him lessons again and hope the results were slightly less explosive this time.

“About before he came to Hogwarts.”

Severus might be safe, he thought to himself as he took a sip of his tea, mulling over the idea of sweet flavoured teas. Maybe a sherbert lemon one. He hummed in acknowledgement and put on a comforting expression.

“Sir I think he was abused.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Abused?”

She nodded. “He's always been a bit tetchy, but something he said last year, sir I did some research when I got home and there were police reports-”

“Miss Granger,” he raised a hand to stop her. “Magical children often come to the attention of the police, it is not unusual in the slightest for accidental magic to get out of hand before one is properly trained.”

“But sir-”

“I checked on him several times as he was growing up, I had a member of the Order just down the road from him, if there were anything beyond a normal level of discipline or childish exuberance I would have been alerted.” He put on his most grandfatherly tone to try and appease her. Every year one of them suggested to him that maybe Potter shouldn't be going back to Privet Drive but there was no evidence for their accusations and weighing up the benefits of the protection the blood wards gave, it was more than worth the risk that he might occasionally receive a smack.

“Sir, I found this.”

She was holding out a printed piece of paper to him, not parchment but muggle paper, printed upon rather than written, slightly crumpled around the edges as though it had been read over and over again. 

Intrigued he took it from her and felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. This was not good at all.

**

The first time Severus knew he was going to hell was a cold January evening in 1996. Dumbledore, in all his wisdom, had insisted he teach the boy occlumency so he didn't have any more visions. Dumbledore had therefore ensured that he would have to subject himself to all of the nonsense inside the boy's brain. 

“Potter, leave your bag by the door and stand in the middle of the room.” He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the boy dropped his bag to the floor with a thud and left it there, didn't even attempt to push it up against the wall. 

“Has Dumbledore told you anything of what you will be doing here?”

Potter shook his head. Of course he hadn't.

“I am going to attempt to break into your mind, Potter. We are going to see how well you resist. As you have already shown some aptitude in resisting the Imperius, this may come naturally to you. Or it may not. Brace yourself.”

Potter shifted his feet on the floor, looking as though the might be getting ready to physically fight him and he snorted softly. “Legillimens.”

A softly simmering cauldron, Umbridge, Slughorn leering at him, Weasley winning at chess, blackness, Lupin, the Order headquarters, the closing door of a bathroom stall- He stopped the spell, he had no desire to watch Potter use the bathroom.

“Clearly not.” Potter looked as though he had run a marathon, sweat was dripping down his face and he was panting hard.

“You need to clear your mind Potter, take everything you don't want me to see and hide it.” He allowed the cruel smirk to glide across his face, nothing like a bit of fear to jolt the mind into action.

“Ready?”

“What? No!”

“Legilimens.”

Potter was panicking, trying to push a memory at him, one of him flying laps around the quidditch pitch, and interesting tactic but not one that was going to work, he pushed it aside and rifled freely through the memories the boy didn't want him to see. He was expecting to see him sneaking into the kitchens with his constant shadows, maybe sneaking out after curfew under his damned invisibility cloak, but not this.

Potter on he knees in the bathroom, a seventh year Slytherin cumming on his face, Potter on his back in an abandoned classroom, Victor Krum fucking him viciously, Potter on a thick plush rug, seemingly tiny in front of the giant of a man who fed his cock into his mouth and praised him, called him a good boy, Potter being spit-roasted by more men he didn't recognise, Potter on his knees, on his back, sitting astride-

He jerked himself from the boy's mind and had to take a step backwards to steady himself. “Potter, what in the...?”

“See something you like professor?”

Severus gaped and it took the two seconds he was temporarily speechless for Potter's entire demeanour to change. No longer cocky and arrogant, Potter was sleek and graceful, stalking towards him like a predator as he dropped his robes, one fluid motion onto his knees before him and he didn't even manage to get out an objection before the boy's hands were on his robes, tugging open buttons, pressing against his erection he didn't even realise he had through his trousers and suddenly the pressure was gone and he was blissfully free and it was hot and wet and Potter had his cock in his mouth.

Potter had his mouth on his cock. 

His cock was in Potter's mouth.

Oh God he was going to Hell. Dumbledore was going to kill him, Lily would kill him again when he died. Half the wizarding world would be lining up to execute him if anyone ever knew about this. He put his hand on Potter's head to push him away but the boy did something with his tongue that almost made his knees buckle and instead he found his hand gripping the boy's hair, using it to pull him closer, fucking his mouth and Potter was moaning like a Nocturn Alley whore even as he pulled harder and thrust faster, there was no way he was breathing properly as Severus' cock slid past the back of his mouth and down his silky soft throat and he came suddenly with a cry, holding Potter's head in place as he exploded down the boy's throat.

It was only when Potter tapped him lightly on the leg that he thought to move and not kill the Boy Who Lived. 

There was cum running down the corner of Potter's mouth as he withdrew and that incredibly talented tongue darted out to lick it up. Potter looked like the cat that had got the cream, he was grinning up at him and Severus wanted to throw him over his desk and fuck him until he couldn't grin any more, until he was a sobbing, loose, mess, begging for his cum. 

His cock twitched and Potter's grin grew. He was most definitely going to Hell.

**

The first time Harry felt wanted was a stormy Thursday evening. He knew it was Thursday because Thursdays were his favourite days. Thursdays they got to visit the library. Only now the joy of free reign over all the books he wanted, or all the ones he could read at any rate, was quickly fading as the driving rain dripped down the back of his neck and into his shirt. He didn't have a coat, the Dursleys had said they couldn't afford to get him one, Dudley had got one because he was more delicate, he would get ill more easily. Dudley had been picked up over an hour ago, to go to a friend's house to play Playstation and eat turkey dinosaurs. Harry's bus had been cancelled. 

The next one was half an hour away, he would be home after dinner time, but it wasn't like he'd get much to eat anyway. He wished he had a friend he could go home with and have a hot meal, a friend whose parents could pick him up and save him from the cold. He shivered to himself and wrapped his arms around his chest, hoping to keep in some of his own heat.

“Harry?”

He looked up to find his English teacher staring at him from the car park, a box balanced on his hip as he opened the boot of his car.

“What are you doing? Why are you still here?”

“My bus was cancelled, Mr Hindley.”

“Why isn't Dudley with you?”

“Dudley went to a friend's house, his friend's dad picked them up.”

“Do you have your uncle's phone number Harry? We'll give him a call and get him to come pick you up.”

Harry shook his head. “He'll be busy, I'll just wait for the bus.”

“I'm sure he'll be worried, you should be home by now.”

Harry shook his head again. The Dursleys were never worried about him, they barely even noticed he was there a lot of the time, unless he hadn't done the washing up before they got up in the morning, then they noticed him.

Thomas wasn't about to leave a 6 year old in the freezing rain and summoned Harry over, helping him into the passenger seat. The child was tiny, barely even the size of his own 4 year old and the clothes he was wearing were hanging off him, the water drenching them and weighing them down making their size even more apparent. He frowned to himself as he walked around to the driver's side, wondering what exactly was going on with the boy. 

“Do you know your way home Harry?”

Harry nodded and directed him across town to Privet Drive as he basked in the warm air from the heater vents. Mr Hindley had laughed gently and turned up the heaters so a hot breeze was blowing past him, warming him through, evaporating some of the freezing water from his uniform. 

They talked about the most recent book Harry had been reading, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, and Mr Hindley asked him what he thought of it, whether he would want to read the rest of the series.

“There's more of them?”

“There's seven of them in total, the series is called the Chronicles of Narnia, and the one you're reading is either the first or the second depending on who you ask.”

Harry frowned. “How can it be either?”

“It was written first but The Magician's Nephew, which was the 6th to be written, is set before it.”

“So I should have read that one first?”

“I don't think it really matters Harry, I think you should read them in whichever order you like.”

Harry's internal glow lasted all the way until he reached number 4 and his uncle's furious purple face came to the door.

“Where have you been boy?”

“Mr Dursley, I'm-”

“I don't care who you are. Where have you been?”

“My bus was cancelled,” he whispered, wishing he could vanish into the ground.

Vernon seemed to be fighting the urge to smack him in front of someone else and instead he growled at him to get inside and take off his wet clothes immediately. 

Harry went, scrambling into his cupboard as fast as he could, trying to listen to the conversation at the door, but it slammed shut before he could hear anything.

“What was that about Vernon?” His aunt's voice came from the kitchen.

“Potter's teacher brought him home, seemed far too interested in the boy. Probably a nonce.”

Petunia laughed and the door closed behind Vernon, leaving Harry alone in silence. He shrugged out of his wet clothing, the heat from the car was seeping quickly from him, and wrapped himself in the threadbare blanket on his bed, reaching for his book bag. At least he was free to read now, maybe he could get Mr Hindley to find him the next one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really not sure I like this, but I can't tell if that's because it's awful or because I've been staring at it for a week, or because it's almost 5am and I'm just sick of it now and want to move on to the next chapter. But if I don't post it I'll never get anywhere in this slightly disturbing fic that I'm not quite sure how I come to be writing.

It was January 9th 1987. Harry knew the date because he had written it three times today. Once for each lesson, and once at lunch time when Mr Hindley had held him back in detention for The Incident the day before. 

Dudley had been chasing him again, one of his Christmas toys had broken and apparently it was somehow Harry's fault. Harry should have known better than to argue; of course it was his fault, everything was always his fault, because the Dursleys thought he was bad. And now Mr Hindley would think he was bad as well. Good boys don't climb up on rooves. 

He sniffed softly to himself and looked at the list of reasons he'd written why what he did was a bad idea. He couldn't think of any more past 'it's dangerous' and 'might damage the roof'. A tear slid down his nose and dripped onto the paper.

“Don't be upset Harry.” Mr Hindley reached down to wipe away the wet track down his cheek and he tried so hard not to push his head into the touch. The teacher handed him a tissue and perched on the desk in front of him. “You understand why you're doing this yes?”

He didn't, but he nodded.

“You understand that you can't go climbing the buildings because it's dangerous. You might get hurt.”

Harry nodded again. He couldn't look his teacher in the eye, couldn't bear to see the disappointment there.

Mr Hindley smiled softly and reached out to ruffle Harry's hair. “Good boy. Go on, go out and play, you've still got 10 minutes left to run off some energy.”

He hadn't heard much past the good boy. His heart had jumped into his throat and stayed there. He was still a good boy. Mr Hindley had called him a good boy! He smiled so wide he thought his cheeks would explode with joy and bounded out of his seat.

His smile lasted all the way home, all through their discussion of The Horse and His boy, the latest of the Chronicles of Narnia he was reading, all the way down the identical suburban roads to number 4 where Mr Hindley helped him out of the car and ruffled his hair for a second time before sliding back into the driver's seat, staying put until he had seen Harry safely into the house. Even Uncle Vernon's scowl at the presence of the man he liked to call Nonce under his breath couldn't sway his happiness.

On a particularly chilly day in March Mr Hindley delivered him home, the wipers working overtime to allow vision through the pouring rain that seemed to be going sideways, but when they got there, instead of sighing like he usually did and taking off his seatbelt, his teacher turned to him instead and asked where his uncle's car was.

“Oh, they've gone away for the weekend.”

Mr Hindley looked at him in amazement. “They've gone away for the weekend? And left you on your own? Harry you're 6!”

Harry shrugged, it wasn't like it was the first time but he thought maybe he shouldn't mention that. “Mrs Figg lives down the road if I need anything.”

“Harry, no, you can't stay here on your own!” He looked as though he was about to say something else but changed his mind as the thoughts got to his mouth. Instead he made a strangled noise and put the car back in to gear, doing a u turn in the middle of the road. “You're coming home with me instead, I'm not leaving you here to fend for yourself. Honestly, what sort of guardians do you have, leaving a 6 year old alone?”

Harry couldn't think of anything to say in response and stayed silent as his teacher muttered to himself under his breath about irresponsible guardians and child services and what if anything happened to him and how was he supposed to eat if there was no one there to cook for him? He didn't mention that he knew how to cook, he didn't think it was going to go down well and the man seemed increasingly angry and he didn't want to draw that attention to himself. 

By the time they reached Mr Hindley's house, a small white building on its own at a junction on the outskirts of Dorking, Harry was getting nervous. When the door opened he flinched away from it and the man about to undo his seatbelt.

“Oh, Harry, Harry no I'm not angry at you, definitely not angry at you.” He ducked down slightly so he was at the same level as the child. “I'm furious with your relatives, they shouldn't leave you alone like that, but I'm not angry with you, not at all. Come on, we'll get you in the dry, get you out of those wet clothes.”

He bundled him through the front door, the porch roof only slightly keeping the rain off them, and in to the hallway.

“Thomas? Is that you?”

“Yes, I'm home.” He hung up his coat on the rack by the door and went to take Harry's, but of course he didn't have one to give so he looked at the floor awkwardly instead.

“Eric's tucked up in bed, I think we wore him out today. Oh hello, you've brought a friend with you.”

A young woman with cheerfully pink and yellow hair crouched down in front of him in his field of vision and smiled at him. “Hello, I'm Liv, who are you?”

Harry wasn't supposed to talk to strangers. That was what the Dursleys had said to him, but maybe Mr Hindley thought it was ok? He looked up at his teacher in askance.

“This is Harry,” he placed a hand on Harry's head. “A friend had a bit of a family emergency, his wife had to be taken in to hospital so I've got this young man tonight. That’s why I’m a bit late I’m afraid”

“Ooh, a sleepover, that's exciting,” she said to Harry, smiling warmly at him. “Well I hope you get lots of snacks young Harry.” She stood to take the money Mr Hindley was offering her and briefly touched his arm in a way Harry didn't understand and a flash of jealousy rushed through him. Mr Hindley was his friend, this woman didn't get to have him!

She left a moment later, swinging her bag over her shoulder as she went, keys in her hand to make the mad dash through the rain to her car. 

“Who was that?” He winced, he shouldn't ask questions, but Mr Hindley kept telling him he could ask about anything;

“That was Liv, my son's babysitter.”

“You told her I was a friend’s child. You’re not friends with my Uncle.”

“No, Harry I’m not,” he kicked off his own shoes before crouching down to undo Harry’s. “Sometimes small lies are better than the truth. I shouldn’t have a student in my house Harry, it’s against the rules, but you won’t tell will you.”

Harry shook his head.

“Good boy. But Harry, Liv has to follow very strict rules and if she thought you were one of my students I’d be in trouble.” He stood and offered his hand to Harry. “Come on, let’s get you dried off a bit.”

Mr Hindley’s bathroom was amazing; the bath tub was massive, bigger than the Dursleys’ and his uncle could fit in that. The black and white tiled walls were clean and shining and there were giant fluffy teal green towels on a warmed rack near the door.

Harry hovered awkwardly near the door as his teacher filled the bath with hot water and bubbles, he had never been allowed a hot bath before, and certainly never one with bubbles, and he wasn’t sure that this one was for him either. He watched Mr Hindley intently as he tried to work out whether he should be undressing or not.

“You’re not having your bath fully dressed are you?” He tested the water with his hand and went to help Harry out of his uniform, although the shirt was so big he could pull it over his head without unbuttoning it. 

Harry shook his head hurriedly and pulled his trousers and pants off in one swift move, not wanting to make the man wait any longer for him.

“Check the water Harry, make sure it’s not too hot for you.”

He checked and, with a little help from his teacher, it was hard to climb into a bath with one hand hiding one’s genitalia from the world after all, settled down into the hot water. It was ever so slightly too hot, but compared to the cold, or at most lukewarm, showers and baths Harry was used to, it was wonderful. 

Steam curled up into the air around him, coiling around his arm as he lifted it from the water, and vanishing into the dark ceiling. The warm wall lights seemed to flicker as his eyes slid shut, and he could almost imagine he was in a fairy tale, maybe in Narnia, laying in a hot spring lit by flickering candles after a long journey across the frozen landscape.

“OK there Harry?”

He jerked out of his fantasy with a slight splash and went to sit up, but Mr Hindley’s hand on his shoulder held him down in the water, rubbing small circles on his skin. “Relax, lie back, you were out in the rain for quite a while earlier, we don’t want you to get a cold now do we.”

The hand disappeared for a second but when it returned it had brought something strange and tickly but abrasive. He opened his eyes in curiosity.

“It’s a shower puff, Harry. Actually I have no idea what they’re called but that’s what I’ve always called them.” He returned it to Harry’s skin and rubbed in small circles, occasionally squirting something that smelled sweet and fruity on to it.

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he had been washed with anything approaching care; sure Petunia had washed him as a baby and a child until he could physically do it himself, but he had a strangely fuzzy memory of being dumped unceremoniously into the kitchen sink, and then clearer ones of having a bath drawn for him and being dropped into it and told not to drown. This he much preferred.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, it could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but Mr Hindley was draining the water from the bath and reaching out with warm hands to lift him from the tub, straight in to the embrace of the softest towel he had ever felt, warmed and smelling of late summer evenings.

He yawned and immediately tried to stifle it but Mr Hindley only laughed softly. 

“I quite agree.”

Dried and dressed in some incredibly soft pyjamas that had appeared from nowhere and were only fractionally too small, Harry allowed himself to be led down the corridor to the room at the end where he found Eric pretending to be asleep. 

“Hi,” the other boy whispered when Mr Hindley had tucked him in to the spare bed, kissed them both on the forehead and whispered goodnight, closing the door softly behind him.

“Hi,” Harry whispered back.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Harry, who’re you?”

“I’m Eric. Dad doesn’t bring children home?”

“My aunt and uncle have gone away.”

“Where are your mum and dad?”

“They’re dead.”

“Oh.” Eric seemed to need a second to process this. “My mum’s dead. Dad said she died when I was born.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, but he was saved from having to think of anything by the other boy rolling over and wishing him a good night.

Despite the relaxing weekend spent playing games, eating as many pancakes as he physically could, running around the garden with Eric, and laying in the hot bath for a long as he liked, he could feel the positive energy draining from his body as he walked down the driveway to number 4.

Mr Hindley was sitting at the end of the drive in his Saab, just like he had on many other occasions and Harry could almost put it all down to a dream thought up by his overactive imagination. He waved goodbye as he unlocked the door and waited until the car had left his field of vision before he closed it behind him and sighed, wondering what state the Dursleys had left the house in that he was expected to clean up before they returned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I did originally have this chapter drafted but then I didn't like how fast it was moving, and then I felt really ikky about what I'd written, and then I felt super ikky about the entire premise of this fic and what the hell am I doing writing about it?? So I've written something, and hopefully I'll continue to write now I've got over this particular hiccough. Although it's probably the first of many.

The end of term was looming, and with it the end of the school year, the end of his protection from Dudley's constant bullying, and of course, Dudley's birthday. 

“Boy!” 

The sudden thumping on his cupboard door made him jump and he almost hit his head on the underside of the stairs, hurriedly shoving The Last Battle, and the torch he had been using to read it with, under his pillow, just in time to be sitting obediently on his bed when his aunt opened the door. She eyed him suspiciously.

“Get up, I want breakfast ready in 15 minutes, don't you dare burn anything this morning.”

He flinched back from the accusing finger thrust in his face. He had only burned an egg last week because he'd been trying to do three things at once, how was he supposed to cook, and do the washing up, and fetch Uncle Vernon's assorted necessities he had left scattered about the house? He was extra cautious this morning, just in case.

Dudley's entrance to the kitchen was greeted with as much fanfare as the Queen stepping out on to her balcony;

“Dudley! My little birthday boy! You're growing up so fast, I can't believe you're 7 already!” Petunia had her son in an embrace so tight Harry was sure he was going to start turning purple soon.

“Let the boy go Petunia, he needs his breakfast before school don't you Dudders. And after breakfast of course there's a present.” Vernon winked at him and Dudley sat obediently, slamming his fists repetitively on the table until Harry brought him his fry up.

“Why are there no hash browns?” He demanded immediately.

“There weren't any,” Harry replied in what he hoped was his most neutral tone.

“What do you mean there weren't any?” Dudley screamed.

“There weren't any left in the freezer.”

Petunia rounded on him from the coffee maker, the only appliance in the house he was forbidden from touching. “Why didn't you say you'd used the last of them you stupid boy? How am I supposed to know what to buy if you don't say what you've used? Finish making breakfast and get back in your cupboard, I don't want to see you again until we're ready to leave.”

He started at her in disbelief and opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it and returned to the bacon sizzling happily in the pan.

He didn't get any breakfast that morning. He hadn't yesterday morning either.

“Get out boy,” Vernon called half an hour later as he waddled down the corridor, grabbing Harry by the collar of his oversized uniform as he left his cupboard and slamming him in to the wall. “I don't know what's got in to you recently, but we're going away for the weekend for Dudley's birthday and I suggest you use the time to sort yourself out. Do you understand me?”

Harry nodded as best he could with his head pressed up against the wallpaper.

“Petunia has left you a list of chores, I expect you to do all of them by the time we get back.” He gave a final shove and let go as Harry's head bounced off the wall and stalked towards the door, leaving his nephew to run lest he get left behind and have to walk to school.

English was his last class before lunch and he was willing his stomach not to make too much noise as Mr Hindley made his way around the room giving back their homework.

“Well done Harry,” he whispered as he put the paper down on Harry's desk. “I might try you on something harder next time, I'm not sure we're challenging you very much are we.” 

“You've all done really well,” he said to the class as a whole, walking back to the front of the classroom. “I'm very impressed, so impressed that I think I might let you go 5 minutes early.” He gave them a conspiratorial wink and pressed his finger to his lips as they put their homework away and stood behind their chairs.

“Off you go then.”

Harry waited until the rest of his classmates had left, pretending to be tying up his shoelaces.

“Everything OK Harry?”

Harry peered over the top of his desk to check there was no one else there and nodded with a grin. 

“My aunt and uncle are going away for the weekend.”

“Are they now?” Mr Hindley settled himself on the desk in front of his student, leaning backwards slightly onto his hands. “Well, it just so happens that Eric is with his grandparents this weekend so we'll be able to have Chinese without him.”

He grinned and Harry had to grin back at him, he couldn't not; Mr Hindley was the most beautiful angel he'd ever met, even if he did seem to be hiding his halo somewhere in his golden blonde hair.

“Now I think you deserve a reward for that homework Harry,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a lollipop. “In fact, I think you deserve two rewards. Come here,” he beckoned him closer and once Harry was close enough he leaned down and pressed his lips gently to his student's.

“What?” Harry blinked up at him, unsure what had just happened.

“It's called a kiss Harry, people do it when they really like each other. Have you never seen your aunt or uncle kiss?”

He shook his head.

“Most people are private about it, it's not something you go shouting to the world. That's why we'll keep it our secret, won't we Harry.” He unwrapped the lolly and pushed it into Harry's slightly open mouth with a wink.

“Go and get some lunch, I'll be here at the end of the day and we'll order ourselves more takeaway than we can possibly eat, how about that?”

Harry grinned eagerly and nodded before he grabbed his bag and bounced out of the door.

The weather had been beautiful all day and continued far in to the evening, allowing Harry and his favourite adult to spend some time in the small garden Mr Hindley had wrapping around his house. They'd planted out some small fruit trees in what would hopefully become an orchard, Harry had learned about the differences between edible and poisonous mushrooms, and Mr Hindley had caught a frog in his bare hands to show to his student who was positively beside himself with excitement. Harry didn't think he'd had such a good evening in a long time, normally gardening to him just meant weeding, he didn't get to choose which plants he wanted, but here he was going to be allowed to have himself his own little flower patch to plant whatever he fancied!

Alarmingly full of egg fried rice and chow mein, neither of which Harry had ever had before, he followed his teacher into the bathroom where he was drawing a steaming hot bath. 

“Kit off Harry, we're both still a bit dirty, and then it's bed time I think, don't you? I'm knackered.”

Harry obediently undressed, folding his clothes neatly in a pile on the floor as he went before making his way to the tub, managing not to flinch this time when Mr Hindley lifted him effortlessly from the floor and deposited him in the steaming water. Only this time he undressed himself and followed him in.

“Budge up, there's more than enough space for both of us if you don't hog it,” he said with a grin. 

Harry wasn't sure if this was normal, but he was beginning to think that maybe how the Dursleys treated him wasn't normal, so maybe it was? He closed his eyes and settled back into the hot water between his teacher's legs, too sated and tired to object, the day had been too good for that.

And he really wanted a bed time story.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a stiflingly hot summer day but Harry was stuck wearing trousers so he didn't show off the bruises Vernon gave him over the holidays every time he threw him into the cupboard. Or the garden. Or the kitchen sink on one occasion. It wasn't as bad as it could have been though, Mr Hindley had given him a freezing cold can of coke.

“I like Miss Galloway more than Miss Summer though, she's a lot less strict, she lets me read in class once I've done my work,” he said in between bites of a sandwich he had also been gifted after the Dursleys had mysteriously “forgotten” to give him any lunch money. Again. 

Mr Hindley laughed, “Miss Summer does have a bit of a reputation for being strict, but you got good grades with her as your teacher didn't you?”

Harry nodded.

“Not that I expect anything less of you this year, even with a more lenient teacher. You know you'll be doing extra homework instead of getting takeaway if you start to slip.”

The 8 year old grinned brightly, he was going to do even better than he had last year. Especially after the celebration he'd been thrown at the end of last year. He'd never been made a cake before!

“Will she let Dudley off with more too?” He asked. Last year Dudley had mostly left him alone in classes when it became clear that Miss Summer didn't tolerate misbehaviour from anyone, but if he could get away with things this year, did that mean his cousin would too?

“I very much doubt it, Miss Galloway won't stand for bullying, if he causes you problems, come tell me and I'll ask her to keep an eye out.”

It turned out Dudley was going to cause problems, or at least test the boundaries and see what he could get away with.

He could feel something cold and wet running down his head and he just knew Dudley was going to be behind it, what he wasn't expecting was the massive shower of glitter as his cousin upturned the pot onto the glue already in his hair. 

“Dudley! Do you think that is appropriate behaviour for class?”

Dudley's eyes widened ever so slightly in shock. “No.”

“So why did you do it?”

Dudley shrugged. 

“I think you should apologise to Harry, shouldn't you.”

“Don't want to.”

“What was that Dudley?”

Dudley seemed to realise when to play along and gave Harry a half hearted apology, sticking his tongue out almost immediately when Miss Galloway turned her back on him. 

She ignored the badly disguised giggles running around the classroom and turned her attention to Harry. “Come on Harry, I think you could do with a bit of a clean up, don't you?” 

“Stacey,” she called to the teaching assistant sweeping glitter off the table before even more of it ended up on the floor. “Keep an eye on the class for a minute will you?”

She chivvied him out of the classroom and down towards reception, wiping glue that was threatening to drip off his shoulders with a piece of towel as they went. She made a comment about not being very popular with the cleaners if they had to wash glittery glue off the floor and grinned. Harry tried to smile back, unsure what was about to happen to him if he was making a mess as he wandered around. 

“Hello?” She called into the empty reception office, a small frown on her face. “No one's in, well we can't leave you glittery all day can we. Let's see who's around, ah, Thomas!”

Harry looked up to see Mr Hindley wander towards the photocopier, a pile of books in his hand.

“Yes, oh hello Harry, you're looking rather more sparkly than usual,” he grinned. 

“Mr Dursley was in quite the mood today, if you've got a spare few minutes would you mind helping Harry clean up a bit? I've got to get back to my class.”

Thomas slid his papers into the photocopier and pressed the button, the machine whirring to life. “You'll owe me,” he said with a grin.

“I'll fight the dreaded photocopier dragon for you.”

He dropped the pile of books into her outstretched hands, “I don't need them until tomorrow morning.” He turned to Harry, gesturing down the hall to his own classroom. “Come of glitter bomb, let's get you cleaned up.”

The classroom door was left ajar as Mr Hindley helped his ex-student up onto the bench at the back of the room, next to the large sink.

“Come on, lie down Harry, it's a very striking look, but I'm not sure this much glitter is appropriate for school now is it. Head over the sink, that's it. Not sure there's much we can do about your jumper but at least it'll dry and can go in the wash, I think I can get most of the glitter out of your hair though.”

Harry lay as still as he could, only yelping softly when the cold water grazed his head.

“Sorry kiddo, water doesn't get any warmer than this.”

He wasn't sure the soap was doing much to get the glue out but he was enjoying the fingers carding through his hair, occasionally scratching gently at his scalp

“I saw your English marks this morning, you're doing so well, not just top of your class but top of your year as well! I'm so proud of you!”

Harry grinned at the small kiss placed on his forehead and vowed to do as well in every other one of his subjects too.

“I think next time I've got you, you're going to get a special reward for being such a good boy.!”

His good mood lasted through the discussion of his work, their short trip to the library after the bell had gone to pick up a new book, all the drive home when he asked Mr Hindley to explain why he wasn't allowed to read some books, all the way up until he closed the front door.

“Boy! What the hell is that in your hair?”

“Glitter, they tried to get it out at school but they said I'd need a-”

“You fucking ponce! What sort of fag goes around putting glitter in their hair?”

“I didn't!” He said indignantly. “Dudley-”

“Are you saying my son is a faggot?” He roared, grabbing Harry by the neck of his shirt. “Are you suggesting that my boy is a shirt lifting pansy? You're the one with fucking glitter on you! Get in there!” He threw Harry into the cupboard and slammed the door shut. 

“I don't want to hear another word,” he hissed through the air vent. “About your unnatural perversions. In the morning you're going to have a shower and wash all of that off and we're going to hear no more about this, you're going to be normal for once in your life.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this, I hate that I've written this, I feel gross and ikky D:

It was a couple of months later, on a wet November evening, that Harry finally plucked up the courage to ask Mr Hindley what had been bothering him so much. The rain was pelting down on the car and the door slammed shut as his teacher slid into the driver's seat, pulling on his seatbelt with a grin.

“Well it's a delightful day isn't it!”

He put the car into reverse and Harry stared out of the window.

“Mr Hindley, what's a fag?” He asked into the glass, watching his breath steam it up.

“Um, it's slang for a cigarette, you're a bit young to be taking up smoking Harry.” 

Harry looked at him in confusion. “What's a faggot then?”

The car stopped with a jerk.

“Where did you hear that Harry?”

“My uncle, he called me a fag, then asked if I thought Dudley was a faggot 'cause he'd put glitter on me.”

Thomas breathed out slowly and took his foot off the brake, manoeuvring around the massive puddle that always accumulated outside the school gates. “A faggot is a derogatory term for homosexuals, Harry. A fag in this case is a shortened version of that.”

“What's derogatrory?”

“Derogatory. Not very nice, it's being used as an insult.”

“What's a homosexual?”

“The proper term for someone who fancies their own gender.”

“Oh, gays.”

“Harry, I take it your uncle doesn't think much of gays?” He tried to relax his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles were starting to turn white.

Harry shook his head. “He thinks they should all be shot. He told me to keep my unnatural perversions to myself.”

“Your unnatural- Christ you're a child!”

“Is it unnatural?”

“To be homosexual?”

Harry nodded.

“Of course not, if it were there wouldn't be homosexual animals. Some people just don't understand people who are different from them and that makes them angry and hateful. Some people think that gay men are going to make advances on them and they don't like that, it scares them. Although, I don't think your uncle is in much danger of anyone being attracted to him is he?”

He glanced at Harry who giggled.

“You are, however, 8 Harry. I very much doubt if you know whether you'll be gay or straight, or even bisexual when you're older, and it's ok to be any of those. There will always be people who will try and put you down for what they see as choices, but what's really a part of you and how you're built. Always be proud of who you are Harry.”

He reached over and ruffled the boy's damp hair. 

Harry didn't know what a bisexual was but he was sure he could find it in a book.

**

The Christmas holiday was fast approaching, Vernon was putting garlands of tinsel on the tree and, with great difficulty, lifting up Dudley to put the star on top, and Harry was listing the contents of the freezer to make sure they had everything for the many parties that were sure to occur. His fingers were starting to go numb and his school uniform was doing nothing to keep the cold draught from going straight down the back of his neck.

“Are you nearly done yet boy? You've got 5 minutes to finish or you'll be late for school.”

“Nearly, I've just got the bottom drawer to do.”

“Well hurry up, you're letting everything defrost.” She kicked the door on her way past and it bounced off his head.

He didn't flinch.

“Good job we know what's in there now boy,” his uncle barked as he waddled into the kitchen. “So we'll know if you eat any of it while we're away.”

“Away?”

Vernon kicked the freezer door. “Don't answer back boy! We're going to Marge's for the weekend, try not to die while we're away.”

Dying was the last thing Harry was intending to do over the weekend, and when lunchtime came, he skipped gleefully across the playground to where Mr Hindley was standing, a thermos of coffee clutched in his hands.

“I'm free for the weekend,” he announced when he came close enough.

“Are you now? Where are your family going?”

“They're going to see aunt Marge, only I don't think she's my aunt, she's my uncle's sister, which doesn't make her my aunt does it?”

“I see you've started doing genealogy. No, aunts and uncles are your parents' siblings, you are in no way related to her.”

“Good. She's horrible.”

Mr Hindley laughed into his coffee. “If she's anything like your uncle I can imagine. I promised you a reward for all your hard work this term didn't I?”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. 

“I'll see what I can do,” he winked.

**

Harry had won snakes and ladders, and sorry, and had almost completed the hat trick but Eric had beaten him in junior monopoly while he was too distracted by pizza. Both of them had done really well at school recently, so not only did they get pizza, they were allowed to eat it on the floor while they finished their game, and then have ice cream on the sofa with a film. 

He wasn't sure what the film was, in fact he was pretty sure he'd dozed off in the middle of it, Eric was certainly fast asleep against his dad's other side when the credits woke Harry.

With a finger on his lips, Thomas scooped up his son and carried him to his bed, tucking him in securely with a kiss on his head. He turned to Harry and took his hand, taking him out of the room and shutting the door behind them.

“Do you want to sleep with me tonight Harry? As a treat?”

“I've never shared a bed with anyone before.”

“Sometimes it's nice to have someone there at night, it's nice to have someone to talk to when you wake up as well.”

Harry nodded and let himself be led down the hallway to a room with a bed so massive he thought he'd probably fit ten of him on. 

“My pyjamas are in the other room.”

“Don't worry about that, you can just sleep in your pants if you like. Personally I prefer to sleep that way, or naked.”

“Naked?”

“Does that make you uncomfortable Harry? I can get some pyjamas if you prefer.”

Harry shook his head, he didn't want to inconvenience Mr Hindley after all.

“Do you need to go to the loo before bed?” 

He thought about it for a second and shook his head again, somewhat uncomfortably undressing down to his slightly tatty white pants, and crawled into the bed where his teacher was holding the duvet up for him. He tried to pretend he wasn't watching as the man undressed.

“You're allowed to look Harry,” he said as he slid into bed naked. “It's entirely natural to do so, you're allowed to wonder what your body will look like as you get older.” He held his arms out so Harry could have a good look.

“Will I be that hairy?”

Thomas laughed. “That one will depend on your genes, you might be, your hair is very dark, but some men have barely any body hair. You can touch if you like.”

Harry reached out and lightly stroked the thick hair on his teacher's chest, wondering at the texture difference between it and the head on his own hair.

“You'll get some body hair of course, all boys, and girls, do. Under your arms and between your legs.”

“Miss Summer didn't have any. She wore sleeveless shirts.”

“A lot of women choose to shave, especially under their arms, but a lot shave between their legs as well.”

“Why?”

“Personal preference. I don't mind being hairy, but a lot of women, and some men, do.”

Harry's eyes were drawn downwards to where Mr Hindley was gesturing and sure enough there was a nest of thick black hair between his legs. 

“Why is yours so big?” He asked before he could censor the thought.

Mr Hindley laughed.

“Because I'm older than you. When you get older, your penis will grow too. And sometimes when you feel good it will get even bigger. Touch it if you like.”

Harry's eyes widened in horror. “That's a dirty place, I mustn't touch there!”

“Of course it isn't, it's just another part of your, or my, body, it isn't any more dirty than the rest of you. Despite what your aunt may say, it's not bad or shameful to touch yourself. Or other people. Just make sure you have consent first.”

“Consent?”

“Make sure they say yes. If I were to touch you and not ask you first that's not ok. If I want to touch you I should ask Harry, may I touch you? And if you say yes then I'll touch you, if you say no, then I won't. If you say no and I still touch you, that's not ok.”

“Can- Can I touch you?”

“You may.”

He stroked his hand though the chest hair again, curious about its texture, but he couldn't stop looking at the man's enormous penis.

“It moved!”

“It does that. When I feel good more blood goes there and that makes it bigger.”

Harry reached out his hand and, after a second of internal battle, touched it. It expanded under his hand, growing longer and firmer to the touch.

“Does that hurt?”

“Not at all,” Thomas smiled. “In fact it feels very good. If you move your hand it feels even better.”

He wasn't sure how this was supposed to feel good but he stroked his hand up and down it, watching as it grew until it stood upright. Mr Hindley seemed to be enjoying it, he had his eyes half open, staring down at him. 

“Put your hand around it and stroke, you won't hurt me.”

Harry's hand didn't fit all the way around, but he did his best and Mr Hindley really seemed to like that. 

“Good boy,” he whispered, reaching out a hand to pet Harry's hair. “Remember the ice lolly I gave you? The way you licked it because it was too cold to eat? It would feel really good if you did that.”

He really didn't like the idea of that. Pee came out of that.

“Lick it and you'll get a reward for being such a good boy.”

He stuck out his tongue tentatively and gave it a lick.

His reward was salty and bitter and weirdly slimy, he wasn't sure he liked it, he would have much preferred another lollipop. But Mr Hindley had certainly enjoyed it, he had moaned so loudly Harry thought they'd wake Eric, and grabbed Harry's hair, pushing his penis into his mouth. He could still taste it, his tongue felt weird. But he'd done well, he was sure of that.


End file.
